Son of A Bet!
by dogbertcarroll
Summary: Can Kitchiri help fix a really smurfed up timeline or will things only get worse for one Ranma (not related to Genma) Satome?


Disclaimer: Not only do I not own any anime series I'm also stealing a lot of my material from Metroanime. If you expect it to measure up to his standards, forget it. I should manage something decent tho'! I hope.  
  
In the tradition of The Bet and its series of 'A different father then Genma' fics, I'm proud . . . OK semi embarrassed to present 'What if Grey was Ranma's father? or Son of a Bet!'. A new twist on an old Idea!  
  
Apologies to Metroanime and Grey. Seriously. I'm really, really, really, sorry I had to write this.  
  
-----------------Mimir's Well-----------------  
  
In a cave of the heavens a certain feline presence was considering his next move. His shadow danced along the rough hewn walls, cast by the light of the softly glowing pool in the center. The runes engraved on the stones lining its edge sparkled gently, as his tail swept back and forth along the sand behind him, erasing his paw prints as he paced.  
  
Toltiir was feeling a mite bored. The Bet had been fun, and provided a lot of laughs, and the 'Powers That Be' had gotten more interested in their jobs and less in the usual 'office politics'. Yet some of the more interesting variations had been overlooked by all involved. 'Maybe they were a little too close to see them?' He paused as he thought abought this for a moment before beginning to pace once more.  
  
The black cat quietly glided around the pool, his tail gently swirling the water as his eyes took in the flickering scenes. 'Got it.' He smirked to himself, stilling the pool with a thought. A darkline that would touch the heart of a certain Mihoshi lookalike (or was that vice versa?), and as one of her avatars was indeed present she would be allowed to make a change without paying the enormous energy cost to stabilize the timeline later.  
  
Shifting from his standard black cat guise he contemplated the appropriate form for meeting this particular goddess. Appearing as a constantly shifting mote of light he sifted through the possibilities. 'What would be fatherly and annoyingly cute at the same time?' *shift* Robin Williams? "Nope." *shift* Jehovah's Witness? "Definitely not." *shift* Papa Smurf? "Perfect! Well, maybe not perfect. Hmmm"  
  
A small plaid kilt and beret, with rainbow suspenders ala 'Mork from Orc', and a button Reading 'Smurf off!' and he was set! He admired his reflection in the pool briefly before deciding on the perfect course of action. There was one person that had been excluded from the Bet to avoid fouling up the others entries and it just wouldn't be fair not to allow her one. Right? A soft satisfying purr rolled through the cave as Toltiir forgot what form he was currently occupying before he corrected himself and sounded out with a nice strong "Smurfy!"  
  
-----------------Rival Relief Office-----------------  
  
In a small out of the way corner of the Alley of Lingering Smells in Asgard, a beautiful and somewhat ditsy blonde could be seen chewing on a pencil as she sorted through her inbox. Brushing her hair out of her eyes she frowned cutely as she concentrated on the folder she was reading. Deep blue eyes sparkled, matching her equally deep blue goddess marks, as their owner translated the files contents into her own unique filing system. With swift and sure strokes of her pencil she wrote 'Not Sure' on the tab, filed it and moved on to the next one.  
  
The front office wouldn't have seemed out of place in a 50's detective novel. One could almost imagine a hard boiled dick polishing his gun in the back room as his secretary (Hired more for her great gams and abundant 'talent' then actual skills) manned the phones and sorted the mail into stacks of bills, bills, and more bills.  
  
The only thing that seemed out of place was the translucent computer on her desk and the very impressive wingspan said blonde seemed to be fielding. The soft glow of her presence just served to highlight the deficiency of the offices décor. Faded and peeling wallpaper complimented a few crookedly hung pictures on the wall while in the corner a bonsai tree that seemed both infinitely large and tiny sat soaking in the early morning sun coming through a window desperately in need of cleaning.  
  
Kitchiri paused in her (Mis)filing of recently completed projects –saving Grey countless hours of searching and refiling- as she felt a light 'summons' spell from Toltiir. The heavenly equivalent of a pager.  
  
She had been interested in placing a bet herself, but for some reason anytime she headed over to Mimir's Well people would invite her out to dinner, or invite her to help with some project or other, where normally they didn't seem to be that happy when she offered to help out.  
  
Being the kindhearted and flighty Goddess of 'Bimbo's and Luck' that she was, she never even gave a second thought to the possibility that those involved were doing it to keep her from adding her own unique touch to their entries.  
  
The Bet was over, but maybe . . . just maybe, she could convince him to let her try one? She bounced out of the office and ran towards the well completely forgetting her ability to teleport.  
  
-----------------Mimir's Well-----------------  
  
Toltiir glanced through the timeline, pausing at times to consider which particular scene would be the best one to show Kitchiri to convincer her to 'lend a hand' as it were without causing her to overreact and show an active presence in this timeline.  
  
He shuddered at the thought. A gentle touch wasn't her modus operandi. She tended to have a strong and lasting effect on anyone she came across and her ability to spread chaos had even him impressed at times. All the more so because she didn't even seem to be aware she was doing it.  
  
The loud "Oops!" and thud from the cave entrance let him know she had arrived, and hadn't been prepared for transformation spell he had cast on the entrance. Standing and shaking sand from her wings an adorable little winged smurfette fluttered to a stop in front of him.  
  
Sitting on a rock with his legs crossed, smoking a corncob pipe, Toltiir tried to project a fatherly wisdom towards her as he blew a smoke decahedron towards the ceiling. "Greetings Kitchiri. I was hoping you had some free time because I have a really smurfed up timeline that only you can help me with." 


End file.
